“And as he grew old and achy, he taught me about optimism in the face of adversity. Mostly, he taught me about friendship and selflessness and, above all else, unwavering loyalty.” – John Grogan, Marley and Me
Some mornings you wake up and have no earthly idea of how hard this day is going to be. Yesterday morning was more than that. It was arguably the hardest day of my life.
He was a gift to my daughter. We drove an hour away to see him, he was ten weeks old. The owners had him outside in a crate. He was absolutely adorable. The moment he saw us, he got all excited and started barking. The owner took him out of the crate and handed him to my daughter. It was love at first sight. Given the rundown neighborhood where we picked him up, I thought for sure that he would be the luckiest dog in the world to be rescued from God only knows what. Turns out I had it all wrong.
He ended up rescuing us.
But not right away! We brought him home and he wasted little time chewing and gnawing at every piece of furniture that had legs. He also wasted little time christening just about every square inch of our carpet. He was one of the most difficult puppies we’ve ever had to potty train. Those white doggy pads ended up being the only safe place to walk for like 5 months. Stanley Steamer had us on a regular schedule every other month to clean our carpets. But thank God he finally came around. This was back in 2009.
And no sooner than he learned to do his business outside, my daughter (13-yrs-old at the time) realized that she was no longer in love with him and filed for legal separation. So he pretty much became my responsibility.
Our friendship, albeit forced, had officially begun.
I could go on and on about how much this little guy ended up meaning to me over the years. I remember the darkest days of my life during my active alcoholism, and how I was completely lost and hopeless. But he was always there for me. He’d hop up in my lap and just lay there, looking up at me with those sad puppy dog eyes that said, “I don’t know why you’re doing this to yourself, but it’s okay. I still love you more than anyone in the whole world.”
Back in January 2019, I returned home from an alcohol treatment facility. I’d been away for 53 days. I still remember how excited he was when I walked through the door. And then not even a week later, that’s when he had his first major bout of acute pancreatitis. He was so, so sick, I honestly thought he wasn’t going to make it. I remember praying and asking the Lord to let me keep him around for just a little while longer. I had just lost my father a few months earlier and I was newly sober. “Please, God. Don’t take him away from me, not right now. Would you let me keep him just a little while longer?”
God answered my prayer. With the help of some wonderful doctors, a few thousand dollars spent on X-rays and ultrasounds, and a regimen of maintenance medication and a new diet, we were able to enjoy him for four more years!
So I went to bed this past Tuesday evening without a care in the world, not knowing that my little buddy’s time was quickly coming to a close. I got up Wednesday morning, and I knew right away something wasn’t right. He was shaking uncontrollably and really lethargic. Thankfully we got an appointment right away and took him in.
After running a few tests, it was explained to me and my wife that there really wasn’t anything more they could do for him that would drastically change his outcome. I then immediately called my son to let him know, and he and his fiancé rushed over to see him one last time. We spent 15 minutes just loving on him and feeding him beef jerky. It is crazy how much dogs like beef jerky, even on their deathbed. But it was a nice final meal for him. And he certainly deserved it.
As I held him in my arms, they sedated him. He licked the saline from my face until he fell asleep 3 minutes later.
When I post, it’s usually in the evenings. As I sit at my desk, I most always look over into the living room and see my Dukie lying all snuggled up on the sofa. And I always think to myself, “someday there’s going to come an evening when I’m going to look over at that sofa and he’s not going to be there.”
That evening is tonight. And it hurts so, so bad!
I know that life goes on. I know that as each week passes, the pain will lessen a little. In a year, maybe I’ll finally be able to think of him without feeling like my heart is being ripped out of me.
But tonight, I am lonely. I miss my Dukie.
Goodnight, my little prince. Thank you for being such a wonderful, faithful friend to me for all these years.
Former Blackout Artist 